meena iyer
A wee girl of 15 asked me for friendship.. I was too happy to comply. She loved my poems ;) And we end up chatting and she sent me this beautiful post. I so want to share it with you guys! here it goes!


Change


She stood before the mirror, unnaturally still. But weak. She looked into her eyes. They were bloodshot, fresh from a violent bout of helpless crying; they were brimming with tears again. Or so saw the world. To her, they were a shattered self-confidence, dispiriting letdowns, burdensome expectations, unfulfilled wishes and thoughts of a colorless, seemingly irreparable life that she had most unwillingly lived the last three years. Her eyes were full again, and with an empty, hollow feeling, she saw a blurred view of her dreadful, cluttered life swim before her eyes. The remains of so many could-have-been happy moments and lifelong relationships. She saw, with a guilty longing, so many missed opportunities glide past her. She could not, could never befriend them now. They were as dead as ghosts, tempting to the desiring heart and foolish to the conscious mind. She thought of the light, peaceful little world she could have had. She could have had… And with a pang of numbing helplessness, her present shot across her skull, dead, degraded, befouled and never imagined. Tears came. Crocodile tears, dad had said. She inched closer to the mirror to look deeper into her eyes. A shudder ran down her body. No, she thought, it could not be. They were true. She felt numb, as if suspended between life and lifelessness by a ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Were her tears true? Had she ever expected such a moment so early in life, where she’d be left alone to stare at the questionable genuineness of her own tears? She stared into her eyes, groping silent answers to each question that had hindered her dreams. To search for reason, for problem, for solutions...for the truth behind her shutting herself to the world…to search for the truth behind the sudden death of her spirits, her zeal, her smile…the truth behind her turning cold, lazy, lifeless…and the truth behind those unfocused, unmoving eyes she saw in the mirror, to which she felt unrelated to…

Had she changed so much? How had she changed so much, so soon? Why had this sudden unwelcome change visited her perfect life and turned her world upside down, in an instant? Why had she changed more than others, more than her friends? Why had she changed so rapidly, with such intensity, to such a great degree that it was, at once, difficult to say she was the same one who lived three years back? No one liked this change in her. Why, then, had she not been able to drive this change away? Had she grown to like it? No, of course not. Had she gotten used to it? Perhaps. But this change wasn’t good. It was bad, very bad. All bad things go away. Why hadn’t this change left too? Aren’t three years a little too long for a bad thing to stay? To her, they had been an eternity. An upheaval. An entirely different world. Will this change stay long, longer still? How long will it stay? Had it to suck more meaning, usefulness out of her already limp life? When will it go, desert her? When will the old-worldly tranquility fill her life again? Why isn’t anything making the change go? Will it go back as suddenly as it arrived, or will she be back in a slow rhythm, as if recovering from a terrible disease? How will it mark its end? Will it ever end? Or, she thought, had it become the new constant in her life now?

This change was suffocating her, killing her spirit to live, marring her wishes to wish and dreams to dream more. It had built a wall around her, through with no emotion of self-righteousness, no lucky stroke of inspiration and no firm thought of determination could seep in. She plunged into the confusing whirlpool of her mixed-up thoughts. How had this change happened? Had she facilitated this change? Had she helped raise that seemingly unbreakable wall of ever undesirable complacency, those stagnating thoughts of prolonged inactivity? Has it all happened by chance, just like that? Or was she destined for this confused existence? Was she, or was she not? Why had she been blessed with those wonderful early years of life? She had been brilliant. A brilliant student, brilliant daughter, brilliant sister, brilliant friend. Why these stokes of incomparable brilliance? Were they only to become a happy memory in these dark, uneventful times? Is this undesirable change really her destiny? No, it could not be…no. She clutched at this thought with the desperation of a drowning man. No, all those years could not just be a memory, they had meant something…

She longed to live those years of never-ending happiness again. So deep, so intense, a longing. Why then, was it not making her drive away this change? Perhaps, her longing was not strong enough. But why wasn’t it strong enough? How could she make it strong enough? By being honest? By being truthful? By being determined? She breathed out a tired, exhausted sigh. Honesty…truthfulness…determination, she repeated in her mind. Several times, in a sort of dreary litany. Honesty…truthfulness…determination. Where could she find them? Within her, of course. But were they still there, within her heart? In a lonesome corner, perhaps. Was she sure they were still there? If they were, why hadn’t they shown themselves? Had they left? She trembled. Apparently, yes. Why had they left? Where had they gone to? What had caused them to part with her? She pondered for a moment. The change? Did they fear the change? Did she fear change herself? What was it that she feared about that undesirable change? Did she fear fighting the change? Why? What more could the change do to her? It had already done so much harm, made her so much miserable. What more could it do? Could it do more? A chill ran down her spine, her thoughts became desperate. Was there no way of making this change go? Could she ever make it go? What if she stopped fearing it? What if she decided to fight? Would she? Could she?

Her eyes widened. She stared back at her own reflection in disbelief.
She could have sworn she saw it, a little twinkle in her eye.
For the first time in three years, she felt purposefully excited, aroused.
She felt something stir inside her.

What?
A change, perhaps.


By Esha Sood




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25 Responses
  1. Agnes Says:

    Wow, this was actually written by a 15-year old? Amazing.


  2. So many talented 15 years old around! :D


  3. Reflections Says:

    Cooool.....seriously I dont ever remember having so much 'feelings';-o


  4. Reflections Says:

    ....as a 15yr old ie


  5. Ah I know same here.. but then some ppl r born matured :)


  6. Voice Says:

    Esha Sood
    welcome to blogger...

    and keep it up :)


  7. Pretty Me!! Says:

    Fantastic !! can never fathom what her mind was thinking when she wrote such a brilliant work !!


  8. Thoorika Says:

    gee !! She is such a good writer!! who is she?! pass my regards to her!! :)



  9. Indyeah Says:

    wow!and a 15 year old no less!
    this is amazing!
    I was kinda cluless at that age which makes me wonder at the words here even more..


  10. Rukhiya Says:

    I guess writing heals,at least for a while, the entire raw situation. And when confusion abounds, the fix between leaving and staying that particular part of your life, you'd rather talk it out clear. I hope it has helped her. This I say, because the post is far too honest to be a piece of fiction. Kudos to be able to tread on such a fine thread of a thought. If it was fiction, double kudos. Thanks for sharing Meena :) My regards to the girl. :)


  11. Archana Says:

    I am just wondering if I had 'thoughts' at all when I was fifteen and look at a matured write here!

    Hope she keeps penning! Best wishes to her and Thank you for posting:-)


  12. Ah guys I know what you mean! I am so waiting for her comment and get back to you guys!

    hope this makes her blog regularly :D


  13. s.H.a.S.h.I Says:

    wow.. tht was amazing.. apecially coming from a 15 yr. old... hey i read some really nice poems in ur blogs... good job.. keep writing..


  14. s.H.a.S.h.I Says:

    really nice work.. specially coming from a 15 yr old... btw nice blogs.. nice poems..


  15. Agnes,
    Thanks for the read. I am soon going to be 16! =)

    Reflections,
    I am glad you did not have such feelings.
    Because whatever this change is, it is never good.
    And definitely not something worth living with, trust me.
    Thank you for the read! =D


    Voice,
    I'll be back with my own blog asap.
    Can I ever forget so magical a welcome into the blogging world? Never!
    d(^_^)b

    Pretty Me!!,
    This was written in a fit of emotions, my heart was the player. (^_^)
    Thank you for those words!

    Thoorika,
    Thanks!!
    My regards to you, cheers \(^_^)/

    Indyeah,
    I am just an obsessed HP faaan!
    You have to thank Ms.Rowling for those words, which I only took the trouble to look up in Oxford.
    HP was where words took control of my mind. (^_~)

    Rukhiya,
    Words do heal, yes.
    And this girl is no stranger to me :)
    BIG thanks :->

    Archana,
    I will keep penning. Definitely.
    I'll be blogging just after my Boards get over :D
    Smileys!
    __



  16. Solilo Says:

    I don’t remember how 15 looked but I definitely couldn’t pour my thoughts like this. This is written so beautifully. Kids are so mature these days.


  17. Muse Says:

    Akka, this is absolutely mind blowing! My regards to her :)


  18. Solilo,
    A compliment, aha!
    Thank you for the read! =D

    Muse,
    Thanks a loads.

    -Esha :)


  19. Yogesh Says:

    Pensive, that what comes to the mind

    Really great stuff from Esha, hard to believe she is just 15.


  20. Thats my Daughter :D
    Make Esha read this, Meena di.

    Warm Regards,
    AyeEsha :)


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